Roots
by Ellen Million
Summary: Lovemaker tells the tale of his parents' long strange romance


Author: Ellen Million  
Setting: Rushwater Holt (www.rushwaterholt.com, probably the best, most structured, well-maintained, friendly and talent-stuffed Holt out there.)  
Webpage: http://www.ellenmilliongraphics.com  
Disclaimer: It's fanfic, the characters of Rushwater Holt are the property of Rushwater Holt, the World of Two Moons belongs to the Pinis, etc, etc....  
  
"I'm soooo bored." Tendril was lying on the forest floor with her feet up on a log. Dapple was yawning, idly ripping one leaf after another into tiny shreds. Beechnut and Lionheart were bickering half-heartedly over a tiny holt that they were designing on a little bush. Clover was fretful in Firemoss' lap and Summerset was frowning ferociously at her weaving. Smokepath was curing some meat without much vigor.   
  
The hunt was out hunting, and the rest of the Holt had been told by a rather worried Chieftess that if any of them left she would personally hunt them down and tie them in their dens. "It's too dangerous with the current human wars," Wildstar explained. "They're actively trying to trap us. I don't want anyone out of sending range for any reason, and the closer you are, the happier I'll be."  
  
The Holt had never felt so confining.   
  
Lovemaker, who had his own close call with a human trap, was rather inclined to obey Wildstar and try to keep the peace at the Holt. "How about a story?" He looked pointedly at Dreamberry, who was draped languidly above in one of the branches.   
  
She wrinkled her nose at him. "Tell your own."  
  
Lovemaker settled himself near Smokepath. Beechnut and Lionheart both looked at him hopefully, forgetting about the minature holt they had been constructing. "Alright," he conceeded. "I'll tell you the story of my parents, Newgreen and Whistleblade."  
  
Tendril perked up at this. "She was a plantshaper, wasn't she?"  
  
Lovemaker nodded. "You get that from her." He offered to take Clover from Firemoss, who gratefully handed him over. Clover at once latched onto Lovemaker's braid and tugged. Lovemaker winced, but smiled, and began his story.   
  
"Starberry, who would grow up to be Newgreen, was born only two years after Suntuft, who would become Whistleblade. From the very beginning they were the best of friends. They learned to hunt and track together, they got in trouble together, they bonded with their first wolf-friends from the same litter. Starberry was always laughing and friendly, and was beloved by everyone in the Holt. Suntuft was more reserved, and felt that because he was older by two years, he had to be he responsible one, but he had a warm, caring nature, and could roar with laughter when the mood struck him, even as a cub."  
  
  
****  
  
"What are you afraid of, Starberry?" Suntuft was lying on his back, idly tying and untying a knot in his boots.  
  
It was one of those steamy, hot nights where the stars themselves seemed to blaze with heat, and the jungle was awash in thick, green smells. This was an old grove where the Holt had temporarily been when Highbelt first led them to the jungle. It had only been occupied for a season before the current, much more comfortable Holt had been founded, but the Starberry particularly liked coming here. It made her magic sense tingle and tickle.   
  
Sitting on one of the huge fallen logs, Starberry was trying to hit a knot on a tree with stones from the river. Thunk. Too low. Thunk. Still too low. She shrugged. "Crocodilian, not being able to hunt when I'm old enough, being a wimp like you."  
  
Suntuft grinned. Two turns of the seasons her elder, he was wise enough to know that she was just baiting him.   
  
"What about you?" Thunk. Too high this time, but not by much. Thunk. Too low.  
  
Suntuft yanked a bootlace too hard and it snapped in his hand. "Having to explain my broken bootlace to my mother!" He stood up and brushed grass out of his dusty blonde hair. "Come on, Starberry, I'll show you the great place I found to fish yesterday."  
  
Thunk. Right on the spot. Starberry grinned and bounced to her feet. "Okay!"  
  
****  
  
Lovemaker tickled Clover's toes and he giggled and let go of the braid. "Unfortunately, when Suntuft and Starberry were about the age to go on their soulname quests, Starberry's mother, Lonebranch, fell terribly ill. Starberry spent hours and hours alone with her in their den, holding her hand and trying to keep her father, Lagoon's struggling spirits up. Now, the two had always promised to take their soulname quests at the same time, even though they planned to go different directions, so Suntuft didn't want to leave unless Starberry did too. And Lonebranch was sick for a very, very long time. It was a fever that would come and go for an entire summer and into the fall, and at the very end, Starberry did not sleep almost at all, just sat by her mother's side and held her hand and listened to her delirious mumblings..."  
  
****  
  
Suntuft sat on a branch opposite from Lagoon, a short hop from the den where Lonebranch lay ill. Lagoon was pale and wan, with dark circles beneath his eyes. He was weaving rope with a slow determination. Suntuft felt useless. His best friend in the whole world hadn't been able to laugh or tease him since the beginning of the summer, and wouldn't listen to his urges to come and play in the woods. And now it was fall, and the glorious leaves of the forest were turning colors and beginning to sweep from the trees like rain in the slightest breeze. This was supposed to be the summer that they found their soulnames, and met back at their favorite grove and had a howl for their new names. And they would be hunt members together, maybe even lead the hunt. Suntuft threw a wad of moss at the forest floor below. Nothing had worked the way it was supposed to.   
  
Lagoon suddenly stiffened in pain and dropped his rope, heedless of the way it unravelled as it fell in a slow, weaving pattern to the ground. He buried his face in his hands, and Suntuft suddenly knew that Lonebranch was gone, and he felt almost glad, un-selfishly because every elf in the Holt had felt her pain and unhappiness for the past season, and selfishly because now he could have his best friend back.   
  
A howl, as weak as it was agonizing, rose from the den below, and Lagoon and Suntuft nearly collided in their rush to go help Starberry with Lonebranch's empty shell. The wolfpack raised their voices to join the sad song, and other members of the Holt began to gather, ghosting quietly out of the trees.  
  
Starberry blinked in the moonlight as she emerged from the den, and shook off Suntuft's hand. She was weak with lack of sleep and lack of food, and her face was dark with grief. Suntuft thought she looked violently shaken, for all that she should have expected Lonebranch's death by this time, and he tried again to take her hand. This time she came without resistant, stepping lightly, but without care onto the branch. Suntuft enfolded her in a hug, but she wasn't crying, and wouldn't cry. He led her to the place that the Holt had gathered for a howl, eager to put Lonebranch's lingering death behind them quickly, and afterwards, led her, numbly, to his own den, and lay her down to sleep, curling protectively around her. They didn't exchange any words, and when Suntuft awoke, Starberry was gone.  
  
****  
  
"She didn't come back until the snows, and she claimed a new name, Leafshade, but when asked if it had been her soulname search, she would only reply, 'mine is a wolf-rider's secret soulname.'" One of listening tribe-members sniffed, and Lovemaker thought he caught Beechnut wiping her eye.   
  
"Poor Lonebranch," Smokepath said. She was working her cure into the meat distractedly, listening to Lovemaker's story with most of her attention. "It is lucky that we have a healer these days, and a very good one at that."  
  
Purehaven had also wandered over to listen, and he looked pensively at his hands. He didn't say anything, though, and after a quiet moment, Lovemaker continued.   
  
"It was three turns of the season until Suntuft went on his own soulname search, during which time Leafshade began to regain her previous love of life and her happiness. He came back with the name of Fishfin, which Leafshade found wondrously funny, because she had called him that when he first taught her to swim." Lovemaker winked at Snowbird, who was perched in a tree above the listening elves. "And they were very close once again, best friends, and even lovers occasionally."  
  
****  
  
A pottery vessel came hurtling down at Fishfin, shattering into shards beside him. "Leafshade!" he hollered up. "Don't be like this!"  
  
Leafshade's angry face appeared at the entrance to the den that they had shared for 20 turns of the seasons. "Get your own den, you piece of dung." His sleeping furs followed the pottery, snagging on a branch halfway down and fluttering in the breeze. "I warned you!" She disappeared back into the den, and Fishfin did a mental checklist to see if he'd had anything else that was breakable in there. A carved rock flew out of the entrance, smashing down into the leafmold at his feet.   
  
The Holt was conspicuously empty, but Fishfin knew that there were listening ears just out of sight. "Leafshade, please talk to me rationally!"  
  
Her face, surrounded by a halo of her reddish-blonde hair, once again appeared. "Rationally? Rationally? Was it rational to tell Smooth Haze that we were going to be Lifemated? Don't talk to me about rational." She ducked back into the den and Fishfin could hear her rummaging for something else to throw at him. A pair of boots launched themselves from the tree, missing Fishfin by a long shot and destroying an innocent flowering shrub. Her voice rang from the den. "Three times we've been lovemates, and three times I've told you I won't be your lifemate, and I never will, and how dare you..." Leafshade gasped for breath and came back to the entrance. "How *dare* you brag to your friends that you'll 'talk me into it.'" A bundle of Fishfin's winter clothing came cascading down, breaking apart into its constituent garments mid-air and liberally covering the elf.   
  
Something that sounded amazingly like a snicker drifted from some of the branches nearby.  
  
Fishfin smacked himself in the forehead, choosing to ignore the spectator commentary. Damn those dreamberries. It was so easy to be loose about his fondest wishes when he was under their influence. "Leafshade, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Please don't be angry with me."  
  
Leafshade sighed and leaned her head onto her hand at the opening to the den. "Look, Fishfin, you're just too possessive for me. Go find someone who wants one of those forever relationships you've always wanted. Maybe in a few seasons I can even speak to you."  
  
She disappeared back into her den, and Fishfin could hear the sounds of her picking up her carving knife and beginning to reduce a stick to bits, which she often did when she was frustrated. No amount of Fishfin's persuasion would convince her to come out, or exchange any more words.   
  
****  
  
"They did make up, of course," Lovemaker continued. "And they continued to be one of the best hunting pairs in the Holt. They were proud of their skills, and they were very good friends again, but they didn't den together, and rarely were lovers. Leafshade had a handful of lovemates, but none of them were serious. Eventually, after several hundred years of this, Fishfin lovemated with Dampdusk, who was a gatherer, and they were quite happy together for a long while."  
  
****  
  
"I just never would have seen you with a gatherer, that's all." Leafshade drove her knife into the branchhorn's corpse, cutting efficiently up the stomach to salvage as much of the hide as possible with the spearholes and javelin marks that peppered it. Their wolves had already taken the entrails and were bickering over the tastiest bits some distance away in the bushes.  
  
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous!" Fishfin held the limbs out of the way of Leafshade's work.   
  
Leafshade brandished the knife in Fishfin's direction. "Fortunately, you know better, don't you." She glared at him. "/Don't/ you!"  
  
"Yes dear," Fishfin mocked back.   
  
"Besides, if anything, she should be jealous of me," Leafshade laughed back at him. "I don't have to live with you, and I know you hog the furs."  
  
Fishfin would have laughed too, but horror rose in his eyes, and he dropped the branchhorn's legs and shouted at Leafshade to get away. A crocodillian had risen out of the water, attracted by the scent of the branchhorn's blood, and was just behind her. She stumbled as she tried to duck out of the way; a branchhorn wasn't worth a scuffle with a crocodillian, not with just two of them. The crocodillian was intrigued by her flailing, and managed to snap out and rake her leg with its teeth as she leapt out of the way.   
  
Fishfin drew his sword, a panic in his eyes, and attacked the crocodillian head-on, which is not a smart way to fight a creature with a mouth that is a third of his body. He was lightning fast, confusing the slow animal, and laid a series of cuts over its face as he darted behind it. The skin of the animal was thick and stubborn, though, and only a few drops of blood oozed out.   
  
Leafshade had fallen, her leg bleeding, and she was a tempting target for the undaunted crocodillian. But Fishfin was right behind it, slicing across its unprotected eyes, stabbing at its nostrils and laying sweeping sword strokes across any skin that seemed less horny than the rest. It snarled, and thrashed, and moved more quickly than either elf thought it could, and Fishfin danced back to pick up his spear, lying beyond the branchhorn. He howled wildly and charged the crocodillian, spearing it just behind the shoulder, and leaning on it with his entire weight to drive the head in. The creature made a feral keening noise, shuddered, and fell dead.   
  
Leafshade, who was binding her leg with part of her shirt, gazed at Fishfin in awe. "That was amazing!"  
  
She couldn't seem to stop saying that, even after they'd arrived back at the Holt, the crocodillian slung with the branchhorn between their wolves. "It was amazing!" she crowed. "His sword was moving so fast is whistled!" She warmed to her audience, a crowd of elves who were aghast at the sight of a blood-covered Fishfin and a limping Leafshade.  
  
****  
  
This was the kind of story that Beechnut and Lionheart loved, and they both tipped their heads back and howled. "That was how Whistleblade got his name, wasn't it!" Lionheart bounced in place.   
  
Lovemaker ruffled his hair. "You're right!" Clover had fallen asleep and was heavy in Lovemaker's arms.   
  
"So what happened then?" Dapple had stopped shredding leaves, and was perched on a log with her knees pulled up close to her chest. "Did they become lovemates again after that?"  
  
"Oh no, things remained as they had been right up until Dampdusk recognized Coldfern, many turns of the season later."  
  
Tendril, playing with her necklace, asked, "What did Whistleblade do? Were his feelings very hurt?"  
  
"Actually," Lovemaker said, pulling Clover into a more comfortable position on his lap, "he was a little relieved. He and Dampdusk remained friends, but were never very close after that. He stayed in the den that she had shared, and she moved in with Coldfern. Those two were lifemated almost at once. Soon after, Leafshade and Dampdusk were alone at the swimming hole, and Dampdusk told my mother that she had wanted to be lifemated with him, but that Whistleblade hadn't wanted to commit. Leafshade found that very odd after his earlier insistence that he wanted a 'forever relationship', but didn't dwell on the fact. She was very good at living in the Now, and allowing the past to be the past."  
  
"No one ever knew if they should call Leafshade and Whistleblade lovemates after that. They kept separate dens and argued as much as they made love, but they hunted as a dedicated pair, and were responsible for an equal portion of the Holt's food as the entire Hunt was. They were incredibly devoted to each other, and would leap to the others defense and put aside any difference to comfort the other in times of need. This went on for hundreds of years, and might have gone on even longer, if they hadn't gotten trapped together in a landslide."  
  
******  
  
Leafshade awoke in terror, in darkness, and cold. Memory came flooding back almost at once. She and Whistleblade had been hunting Curlhorns in the mountain, and been trapped by a landslide that rained rocks the size of wolves past them. They'd been able to seek shelter under a low overhang, but the volume of rock that fell over the path trapped them in a tomb of darkness and stillness. Softfur lay, with one injured paw, between herself and Whistleblade. Coolbreeze, her own wolf, had been crushed in the fall, too afraid to stay still under the overhang while the rocks were cascading down around them. She thought it would hurt more, losing Coolbreeze, but after two days in darkness, she felt numb and detached.   
  
She sat up slowly, rubbing blood back into her limbs. There wasn't room to stand, but in most places, she and Whistleblade could sit up straight. Softfur had difficulty with the fact that she couldn't stand or sit upright, and occasionally whined and threw herself against the pile of rock that separated them from the outside.   
  
The first day, they had tried to dig themselves out, but the rocks were sharp and tore into their hands, and they were eventually faced with rocks too large to move in any direction that they tried. There was a slow trickle of water at the very back of their little cave, and they were able to slake their thirst, if not their hunger. The air, though stuffy, remained breathable; it crept in some small hole that didn't allow any light in.  
  
Whistleblade stirred, and Softfur whined a little in her sleep. Whistleblade caressed her, and she fell back into slumber. He sat up and reached in the darkness to where Leafshade sat. She was startled by his hand on her knee, and covered it with her own hand. "Do you think that they will come find us?" Her voice was so much less sure than it usually was.   
  
Whistleblade wiggled over Softfur to sit beside her. "I have to believe that they will."   
  
"But..."   
  
A finger touched her lips in the darkness. "Don't."   
  
They had been over this too many times in the past 2 days. No one knew exactly where they were hunting, and they weren't expected back to the holt for a hand of days yet. The two trapped elves sat, back to back, taking comfort from the feeling of companionship as Leafshade tried to school her thoughts away from despair.  
  
Out of the blue, she said, "I /was/ jealous of Dampdusk, you know. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember."  
  
Whistleblade froze, acutely aware of her lithe back in contact with his own. "Why did you never agree to lifemate with me?" It wasn't accusatory, but there was agony behind the words. Guilt rose in her throat.  
  
He thought that maybe she was crying; her words were choked and slow. "I couldn't. I'm not whole. I never found my soulname."  
  
He blinked as if it would chase the darkness from his eyes. "You don't know..."  
  
Behind him, she pulled away, cradled forward around her knees. "I /know/ it, dolt. My mother told it to me on her deathbed, too fevered to know better. But it doesn't /mean/ anything." Into her knees, a muffled, "I don't think I will ever be whole."  
  
Whistleblade opened his mouth, unsure as to what was going to come out, and she interrupted, "No, don't say anything. I don't want your pity. I couldn't stand it."  
  
Suddenly a great deal about Leafshade made more sense. The way that she threw herself into things as if she were constantly having to prove something, as if she had to convince herself that she was a complete elf. The way she shied from anything more serious than the most casual of dalliance. The fear that she showed whenever he had pressed her for a more fulfilling relationship. The conviction that she would never recognize.   
  
"Leafshade," he turned, facing her in the dark. "You cannot believe that I love you any less because of this. You make /me/ whole. I cannot believe that you are not, regardless of how meaningful your soulname isn't. I love you for who you are and every part of you, and if you don't have a name for it, I do. You are Leafshade, my truest, dearest, deepest love, my reason for being, and my joy."  
  
For a long moment there was silence in the blackness, then a great, tearing sob, and Leafshade flung herself into Whistleblade's arms, as gracefully as the cramped quarters would allow. She wept against his chest and he held her close, his own empathetic tears tracking into his facefur. He rocked her as he would a cub, and she clung to him. **I... I am Kow** she sent, and astonishingly, sweetly, it had meaning to her, a wash of it as strong as rain. She lifted her head and gazed at him though she couldn't see him in the dark.  
  
Whistleblade touched her check, tracing one tear-track down to her jaw. **I am...**  
  
**Fash!** Leafshade finished, her laughter rang in the small cave. **I know!** She pressed herself against him, twining her fingers in his curls. **I never, never thought that I would be able to recognize!** she send joyously, savoring the heat that seemed to burn in her veins, the desire that sang in her head. Whistleblade held her close, so full of joy and longing that he couldn't speak or send... and didn't have to.  
  
*****  
  
Smokepath, who had given up all pretence of curing meat, sighed blissfully and snuggled closer to Lovemaker. "What a perfect ending," she said. Beechnut applauded and Lionheart frowned. "Did they get out of the cave?" he asked.  
  
Beechnut answered, "Of course they did, they had Lovemaker!"  
  
Lionheart made a face at her while Lovemaker explained, "Coldbreeze hadn't been killed in the rockslide, just badly injured, and she went back to the Holt and got help. It took another 3 days to get them out, and they were very hungry, but they were all fine."  
  
Tendril wasn't satisfied. "That's not all of the story, is it? She was a plantshaper, wasn't she? You didn't say anything about that! And when did she become Newgreen?"  
  
Lovemaker took a long drink from the cup of water that Dapple handed him and laughed. "Insatiable grand-cub! That is a story for another day..."  



End file.
